Best Quietus Poems | Poetry

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MY QUIETUS by Ja, Ja
quietus, a tanka by Foster, Gail
Quietus by Bosa, Diana
Quietus of a Bird: Entity of Serenity by thepoet, Crow
Quietus in Just by Rutledzh, Lxnnnie
Quietus by Linney, Gary Gene
Cloud Quietus by Gibson, Faye
Quietus by Hayton, Jo

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The Best Quietus Poems

 
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Before My Pen Is Hushed


      Before my flowing, poetic pen is hushed in Quietus,
And I have reached my journey's end with folded hands;
            Departed into my dreamless sleep beneath violets,
Let me write one everlasting, eternal, immortal verse;
                  Of the ravaged garden of my life.

      I want to hear a bird song when I quietly glide away,
With a sigh, I will lay my pale form down peacefully;
            I have willed my Keepsakes and my musing poems,
The Angel of death, will take my hand into another realm;
                  And the drums of time will cease.

      Oh, it has been a life full of happiness entwined with sad,
I have travelled many different roads to get to Tranquillity;
           The chapters of my life are full of the dead and undead,
Memories of childhood, family, friends and pets I loved;
                  The scars of life stab my soul.

      I do not fear death and I am ready to go through the gate,
But I will miss nature, the woods and the waters moving;
            And as I walk the silent passage alone to my eternal night,
Think of me as being set free and soaring high up above;
                  I lived a life weather-stained with tears.

      Leaving life is something we all must do; it is written,
I was held by a thread in this earthly realm until that last gasp;
            Now, all I know is the peacefulness of a leafy tree above,
Drifting blue clouds and rain falling gently on my resting place;
                  I was a shadow on the wall of time.

      Do not weep over my eternal grave heartbroken my dears,
I have followed the beautiful Angels footsteps to heaven;
           My poetry is timeless, ageless, and will always remain,
I have shed this earth bound life and I am a butterfly set free;
                  I drank from the deep blue cup of life.

      So come, dear hearts and plant some pretty flowers in Spring,
I am at last united with all my beloved who have gone before;
             Touch my name and remember me for my beauty,
And although my life was but a whisper, I loved every moment;
                  Now, I exist in another realm.

____________________
August 26, 2015

Epic


Submitted to the Premiere Contest Number Five
Sponsor, A Skat

Tenth Place



Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015

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Rose


I know that I am dying, I am fading fast,
     my life is almost over, by tomorrow I will be dead;
and I find myself on a grave stone draped in quietus,
        come the next dawn- I will be withered gone.

A girl brought me to this vast place of deep tears,
     her sad weeping wet my soft red velvet petals;
she had plucked me from my shade in her little garden,
          oh, I was so happy there growing by the fence.

I heard her say the word baby in her sadness,
     then she placed me gently on this cold tomb to die;
will I bring the baby peace- will the baby know me,
          soon we are alone, baby and me- hello I whisper.

My name is Rose, soon I will join you in the other world,
     that night I watched the moon and stars above;
for the last time I knew the dawn and then I gasped,
           all was still -  I was in the hand of a child.

The child pressed me to his lips and kissed me beautiful,
     my petals were no longer brittle cold but lovely;
and here we lay under the blue azure sky and cool earth,
         a rose and a baby boy, joined in death by eternal love.

For years we listen to birds singing and wind sighing,
     the rain gently falling and snowflakes drifting in winter;
birds in circled flight above and distant whispers of love,
          and the tears of an old woman falling on our tomb. 
____________________
August 23, 2016

Verse/Personification

For the contest, And In The Words, She Blooms
sponsor, Casarah Nance

First Place


Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016




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the kissing ground

Sophie's sweat 
landscapes
the claret red horizon
thick serum
trickles 
from a Sickroom -
a death ward

where cracked knuckles
spatter the fjords 
moistening the planks;
bathing the laths of anxiety
‘neath 
marquis de sade stumps

Norwegian expressions of death -
agoraphobia
murdering actuality;
the Dance of Life
rapidly burns
as a funeral pyre of Ashes are
seized from
your tribe’s headstone

the stench of brother’s legacy
replaces
a protected breath
and a Dead Mother can 
descry muted 
caterwauls 
between
the Clock and the Bed

the two guardians of quietus
merely exit
this clotted bridge
contemptuously -
in soured and 
staled 

delight


Copyright © John Heck | Year Posted 2009

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Just before the rain

I’m happiest when the weather is gloomy and threatening rain. Its tendency, this low pressure, forces most people to remain inside comfortable houses. Outside becomes much quieter assuming a shushed quietus that wouldn’t normally occur if the day were a sunny one; so I pray that this low holds fast concealing the intrusive sun behind the looming overcast while I revel in its stillness and its lugubrious bleakness.


Copyright © Albert Ahearn | Year Posted 2012

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The Gold Rush

They must have thought that I was brought here to do the numbers....
Ninty-nine's einsteinium square dance razzle dazzle then you shuffle a masque ?
Halloween arrived although ushering in an unknown, mutation towards 
These centripetal forces ? Ancient's prophecy to bring into fold of trembling 
Foretold standing at their threshold love's thresher; combatant the messenger
If all else shall fail ? Indubitable, unto His heavens as her Angels whom know..
Quietus with hands full of good tidings this heart and a golden marionette ?
Crossing inevitables Mason-Dixon line; cyber space Spirits humanity; poetics Waterloo.




Copyright © Johnny Rhinem | Year Posted 2013

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Is Death an Igbo Man

IS DEATH AN IGBO MAN? Quietus: ‘Nna Grave, this is Quietus from Vaults and Sons International. My containers don arrive?’ Grave: ‘Yes Oga Quietus. From: —Cairo—Syria—Boston—Kangan— —Somalia—Monrovia—Sudan— —Iraq—Afghanistan—Pakistan—Congo— —Russia—Yemen—Israel— —Ivory Coast—Rhodesia—Burkina; but some of the goods (carrion) were mutilated, and left for Vultures.’ Quietus: ‘Ok. I get business for Kangan(1960). Oga at the top has finally heard His people’s cry by reason of their taskmasters.’ Grave: ‘Goodluck Sah!’
©Angel Simon 2013 Amidst global political upheaval and terrorist pandemonium which has increased mortality rate incessantly, this poem (written in a dialogic format) is a conversation between two business partners- Oga Quietus(Death) and Grave who both trade in Carrion (dead bodies). The ethnical and symbolic relevance of the Igbo Man for Death is because Death shares some of the typical Igbo Man's commercial doggedness. Some of which are industry, enterprise and adventure. Death is really industrious in his Carrion business as we see his branches in the above mentioned nations topping its supply list from Grave. Enjoy!


Copyright © Ajayi Angel-Simon | Year Posted 2013

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A REQUIEM TO MY PRECIOUS LEGS

A REQUIEM TO MY PRECIOUS LEGS: ELEGY TO MY PARENTS

FREE VERSE FOR MUM
My birth remark reads:
                                     You tramped for a season
                                          With a puffy trunk
                                      Along dangerous paths—
                              Waded on puddles and quagmire,
                                    Scuffed your flat feet and 
                          Trampled it on serpents and scorpions
                                 To bid my glorious existence…

I lost my balance
When I felt your expiration from my pubis.
I staggered in pain
Like a fowl stripped off by fierce breeze.

                                                    My physique—
Which a thousand-and-one-princesses adore—
                                                       Is distorted.
The trunk you both carry—
Through rocky hills and sloppy mountains—
Is now an elephantine for the other leg.

Oh! Your cessation is at break of dawn
      You danced to the tune that glooms souls
           You are bereft of ambling
                 On such and such burg…
                        You hurried for the Golden City.

The scorch sun and mild moon cloy
You take pleasure in the one-off of quietus…

With streams of briny water
Rolling down my cheek,
I watched you wriggling helplessly to and fro—
After being ricocheted on Death's spindly pole:
Death clasped your brawny brittle bones.
You swell, swelter, near bursting,
Impatient for suppuration in your crimson attire.

                                         Farewell!
                            You scoot the living abode
                          On mutilated soles and toes;
                                                                                 My precious leg!
                                                                         In your gracefulness,
                                                                   I created beautiful traits.
                                                 I'm left limping as you're supplanted
                                       By quasi-legs and crutches.
Will you ever return?
Even in posterity…   

HAIKU FOR DAD
                                       Dad! Why? Another crutch?
                                            Both legs amputated
                                 You couldn't stay; you loved mum.
Your Love, Angel Simon.
On Christ The Solid Rock I Stand...*tears*


Copyright © Ajayi Angel-Simon | Year Posted 2012

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Blue Iris

Blue Iris, 
Grimoire gondolas steal unbound human yawns,
Each Charon poised with sallow spear along the River:
Austere laughter of headless boughs 
sipping grave-scented spiritual kisses.

Gruel to Drinking Fear you do coerce,
Till evil flees the dawn within its hearse.
I shall not warn my successors, no—instead
I shall laugh 
A Godless laugh 
From this unlit, inward tower 
At the Thoms ever drawn to a fog-rent
Harbor of Lights,
Forever in flight 
t’wards a searing promise:
“The shadow of your smile when you are gone.”

Softly flows
The Months; cadence down
The end of Years,
All Great Whites closely duty-bound
Gleaned russet stress and tears.
All I do 
As gardens do
As zephyr hewn
Is wash my hands
I watch my hands
Just watch them grow—  
Closing impossible crimes
By the cold March of Time.

Shall I catastrophe? I shall wasp anew
Geronimo! hellbent swoons: withered Eye see U:
A veldt vision on this peace of death
That singes arrows unto my breast,
Non-quietus—not of suede nor hawthorn
That singing! Unveiled Vistas Reborn.

The summer breeze made chill wastrel flames,
E'en herrings dappled across minstrel viridian 
All bearing my name.  
Subtlety 
Is your root, surely as I inhale the palpitations 
Of this noxious City so small 
Yet so grand in its delusion.

Rachel or Leah? Suffice it (and damn it, too), at least Jacob’s subtle darkness 
Invited crystal warmth to dine on elegant raindrops. At Life I laugh,
And Life laughs long, dreamy along kestrel seams. I dine 
On sweet air.

Despised dream origin. 
Quickly, quickly, awaken me—unwrap 
Your blessed hearths, creature,
And begone—I despise 
Your balance of whimsy; I despise 
All of your beauty.


Copyright © Richard H. Dunsany | Year Posted 2016

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Found

Found
With
Succour
Quietus
Lost


Copyright © Nigel Fox | Year Posted 2010

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Quietus of a Bird: Entity of Serenity

The death of a bird is the death of a song
Like the melody of its lasting breath
Sliced down from an invisible blade of the wind
The quietus of a bird defeats the entity of nature itself
The bereavement of this serenoa
Would bring dissolution upon the serenity
Of this calmness of peace
Even a soul-less renegade or heartless machine
Could enjoy this peace, list it a virtue
The cessation of the entity that was this
Winged small angel of animal
Not the end, but a new beginning
In its nest, its offspring has spread their wings
To continue the siren song of its nature
The sky is the limit, is the sweat visible on its face
Only the beating wings claim its words
Confidence, majestic, determined
But its ruination, the quietus, the bereavement
Which make the ponderer, wanderer wonder
Wonder what's the true meaning of the circle
Does it start with something living, end with an idea
Does the death of a bird equal the cessation of a melody


Copyright © Crow thepoet | Year Posted 2016

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ZYX

Zapping your xylophone
While viewing unhappiness
The still reverberating quietus
Pounds on my limbo.
Kings jump in high garters
Feathered elands dive
Catching beautiful aardvarks.


Copyright © Jo Saunders | Year Posted 2015

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The Road We Travel

We taunted by those we love, 
Fastened by those we meet.
We are endangered by the future,
Rescued by fate.
We are wearied by stage,
Refreshed by ending.
We are put into strife by ambition,
And receded by triumph.
We are afflicated by passion,
Wounded by persuasion.
We are failed by our efforts,
Consoled by our past.
We are shattered by experience,
Reconditioned by consequence.
We are held by false,
And evicted by truth.
We are pursued by gloom,
Eluded by fire.
We are bothered by reality,
Delighted by fantacy.
We are incarcerated by existance,
Set fee by quietus.


Copyright © Nontando Sibanda | Year Posted 2013

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Today

Today is the day
 I perceive
That I am the absolute candidate 
For quietus.
Today is the day 
I grade 
From the university of life,
My thoughts cease.

Today is the day 
I lay my head on my bolster,
To turn it no more.
Today is the day 
I accept 
My rest a stone.
Today is the day 
I let a full stop be placed,
After many, many commas and semicolons.

Today is the day
Roses, Petunias and Lillies be gathered,
And placed by my head.
Today is the day
Flowers are going to wither,
Death is mine.
Today is the day 
The aroma thereof shan't cause me to sneeze.

Toady is the day 
Possibilities end, 
For anything and everything.
Today is the day 
I live onus and life and passion,
And place my hands over my head.

Today is the day 
I reach a dead end,
Today is the day
I lean,
Toady is the day 
I take the honor of forever.




Copyright © Nontando Sibanda | Year Posted 2013

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Quietus

I still awake with the words 'Why'
The only colour a burnt black
The only sound
The clocks distorted whine

A cup of tea tastes bitter
When accepted by stained lips
Last nights tears bid for revival
As life again begins without you


Copyright © Jo Hayton | Year Posted 2010

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Cloud Quietus

White chariot
pounds pavement blue,
hooves beat tattoo
on drum of sky.
Ashen fleece borne,
softly I lie,
earth's pull defy-
victory ride.
Faye Gibson Copyright, August 3, 2014


Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

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Welcome to Murkland

Beneath the River Somnium,
Abandoned Wishes hymn: quiet in the viaduct:

Reverse the Lodestone;
Reverse the First Sin;
Reverse the Autumn Hearse;
Reverse the Universe.

We are the murk men, intangible ends—inebriated together
With Beelzebub our friend. Absolvent now in burning skin, the Piper plays our rudder;
Garudas’ quietus ballroom-mance veils lioness earthbound shudders
Vindicating tincture. 
Come speak as One or risk the Sun 
Melting e’en your physical fixture.

Rainforests, peripheral phantoms
Meshing lanterns; coalescing unwound mummy-cloth sanctums.
Opium deserts, 
Drear-dreaming desolates—we inhale brimstone, we imprison Nymph oxygen
Together Daedelus;
Einstein;
Victor Frankenstein.

Delirium waterfalls brew spirits despite ballets
Heating gloam flintlock
In Nem-kissed cabernets
Cascading pyre dunes endlessly:
Nine inward tales lost in Ambrosia unbelonging,

Scorching any falsely fairer,
Side-thrusting ineffective suffocation
With undead rapiers. Who dares desire to replace You
Shall receive Bubonic nebulas, past arbalest
Exhibiting thrones’ cobalt fire under Babylon’s command,
silent yet laughing always waiting for zero
hands cannot wait they tremble
we dissemble they commend grown avatars
youthful Avatars: hawks circling together,
Smiling, sardonically tired of this world
Trapped within thunder,

As gorgeous black does spool this secret:
Those of us who have strayed from The Path
Disintegrate into cinnamon
For common use. Therein, use the fallen well,
Persephone's stair of the past—   
only in dreams Hades’ Wint has passed
hinterland skies embracing crescents’ fast
below our lone, draped behemoth ‘cross cities’ paradox
in the midst of a nightly, playful wink. 

We daemons tacit vacant love insane.
Alucard, Alistaire, Allwein: Remove your Glove—dispatch that Vein.

Your pact with us has just begun,
Though fear us not, O Clem, who’s won?:
Escape's been reared by us—reality fears Your perennial face;
Your marrow trills—now Murkland strafes:
Quem di diligunt, adolescens moritur;
To siphon Your Color——A New Corridor.


Copyright © Richard H. Dunsany | Year Posted 2017

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Vignette-Faith quaternion

Hush,is that a knock upon your door,
A guest,who is seeking more,
Someone,perhaps come to dine
A feast for two and then
Converse in fellowship divine

Fall has the middle wall,
In two,the veil is  torn
Emnity has no call-
With Him,our cornerstone
No longer,we....forlorn

Is Hades your sheol
Quietus staging post
A chasm to separate,
Paradise from Hell

Will you await along the lake,
Resurrection's second death-
Or be a name in the Book of Life
His name on your forehead 


Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2012

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Splashed

Amid once roseates mirroristic muse borne reflections ~

Images now manifesting themselves inside the dampened blink of time to find

But a bitter root spawning within jestives mocking mist touching it all....

A hearts turning unto the tainteds brushed in such bluish black?!

Shades encumbering frameless days to impede silent breath

Cast into the haze caught afore solitudes sight; this

Charcoaled aneath grays changling canvas tracing dreams; tampered thoughts....

Dreamt upon an empty palette; stilled, by these quietus hands!?

Turning unto jaded an emerald forest of loves hopes risen from

Innocent visions bearing light awakened so very deeply inside ~

Stigmatized, while gazing into the divertive face of autumns newest moon....

Piercing this glass formed in silver made hues; shadows etching royalistic palms left

Waiting for a mornings dew dipped colours to someday soon, reappear?!

Renewing what has been stolen; mingling betwixt the blood of, red laced sins

****************************************************************

...."Splashed" ~



Copyright © John Rhinem | Year Posted 2012

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PYROTECHNICS: Way to Escape

~~~~~~~~~~   *-*   ~~~~~~~~~~


                         Vague murky nights bosomed with bane
                            Annihilating ev'ry smile
                               Plummeting pollens so insane
                                 Ample powder - quietus file
                                   Effulgence emerged just awhile
                                 Lustre fetching thousand glee
                               Electrifying - halt to rile
                           In realms of outrage - nice to flee.


                                                                           ~~~~~~~~~~   *-*   ~~~~~~~~~~



=============================

*-* jun-jun villanueva

*-* " HUTAIN THIS ONE " Contest


Copyright © jun-jun villanueva | Year Posted 2011

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Do Not Listen, Part III

(The final part of my serial "Do Not Listen" poem. I had written this months ago, but hadn't felt confident about posting it--until now and with a few edits.)

___


Do Not Glisten, Child! of my early past.
Do you still desire to shake this Hand of the Age
so black in depth and red from nightshade?
Rather I would buy you a milkshake from a Rocket's,
and dip for but a short time in our unified happiness. To face or not to face
the sun indifferent as the Boatman?

When she's isles,
the secret plane of reality is that negative abyss, et al..
Destroy all the clocks and time does not fall,
Saturn's mind is a wherewithal, 
the seductive lilting Southern drawl
loots itself a mighty hall…and they act surprised. So very surprised
to see their blue as red on the linoleum floor.

Oh? Had you not predicted thusly,
when you two strode arm-in-arm along the thoroughfare,
with that stupid smile embracing the air? 
And what hear you there? Indeed.
The mermaid's melody, the siren's sonata
all starving for accompaniment: the percussive heartbeat of hope:
Seven kingdoms 
and a last fraying rope. A last

fraying

smile.

Ha ha ha! Why do I laugh? You know full well, but since you've asked!
Black Stereo, black clothes--black month of June! Black Yin
completely black!
Rain thine essences down upon this lowly serf,
show me the footage of a black cat 
with a caramel nose, soul of heaven,
pressing lovingly into my chest, kneading, 
purring and licking my rose
cheeks blooming above dead Western Gilgamesh,
then Garuda me as you open your mouth to dream 
'n' out ‘n’ out ‘n’ out dives soundlessly...

The Unraveling.

I cannot wait for quietus debate, barreling down like 
Do Not Listen. Clog 
goes the weasel,
clogging the years, so silence the seas
and clog your arteries
with this sweetest dessert: iced love drizzled with liquor, sprinkled 
with broken vein glass:

A Nobody’s Wish to Eat.


Copyright © Richard H. Dunsany | Year Posted 2017

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To A Certain Extent

To a certain extent we have no love, 
Angry words spat can never be withdrawn.
To a certain extent one may never smile again,
No joy, no sense of humor.
To a certain extent insecurity strikes,
Yet none of it were we ever given.
To a certain extent one isn't himself,
'If they discover, I take quietus'
To a certain extent we are blind,
Even an insensible can sense the tension.
 To a certain extent we are always unaware,
'If only we had taken to be awake.'
To a certain extent one might never write again.
Ink and paper present, thoughts blunt.
To a certain extent be inpersistant.
Lest you pursue harm.
To a ungraceful exent,
I might not see the kingdom.
If only it had come to my knowledge
How uncertain the extent was.


To a greater extent we are bitter.
To a uncertain extent we are at peace.
To this extent we are alive.
To an unknown extent we are dead.
To an annoying extent we laugh.
To certain extent we cry.
To a certain exent we consequently act.
Yet to another,
Nay, no consequenses.


Copyright © Nontando Sibanda | Year Posted 2013

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Spiritawayed

beyond twilight’s
sunrise
colorless souls
sojourn
forever lost
at sea

empty decayed
voices
long forgotten
memories
unsettled silent
bones

beneath barren
skies
blind transparent
crystal
soft cloudless
tears

vanished hearts
quietus
entreating cries
reach
ever breathless
upward

their unhealed
waning
silent spiritless
thoughts
yet endless woe
consigned

© Eugene Harvey


Copyright © Eugene Harvey | Year Posted 2012

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Quietus


Today is the day you show us your worth.
You recede,
you retract,
a retarded new birth.


This taking motion.

Your body paints on the canvas of its life,
an outpouring of you without control.
An abstract,
a schoolboy erraticism,
in colours not seen by your eye.

They take you.
Your canvas awash with human error,
they break you, 
they shape you,
they paint you a colour.


These tones are not yours,
a model,
a floorshow, 
with no applause.

All of your motions undetected in this hour.
This world has no time for you,
but you are measured,
in black fingernails,
patches in veins,
stitched lips,
in coolth.

They gift you,
cold, 
in this place of warmth,
this home.

Unrecorded timelapse shows majestic animation,
interrupted by fast comings,
and faster goings,
and 
teardrop
explosions.

You are home,
your home,
our home.

oh, those years of sit down and be quiet,
of all our shortcomings,

 


our

 

hearts

 

 darkest

 

riot.


Copyright © Gary Gene Linney | Year Posted 2015

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Criminal

accused, i
am arraigned to stand for the hearts they say, like 
bones, i broke.

now, fractured, scattered, shattered dreams,
dealt the mortal blow of my, stony, 
disregard, they say.  

winter moans 
a delicate dirge for quietus spring 
forced to everlasting; 

to the burning pyre, 
there lies promise. 

for this crime, I stand accused.

blindness I prefer than to behold 
your precipitous, tumble and fall far
from the stair’s summit we both scaled 
to approach love’s door, only to discover 
it was I who, 

when 
   opened, 
       turned
             and 
               pushed
                      you
                         down 
                             and 
                                away.

‘amorticide’ is my crime, the murder for
which I stand condemned, a killer of love
they say,

sentenced to be chained, 
                                          far from the reach of  
                                                                 hearts, forever.
 


Copyright © Mark Poe | Year Posted 2017

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The Denouement

I sensed myself sinking down
Culminating the stuccoes of existence
Crossing denouements of mortality
Obeying the laws of life's caducity
And defying the clusters of earthly brevity.
My nostrils perceived the essence
Beyond the sod
My ears apprehended the sounds
Of heavy metal spades
And my eyes saw the quietus
When the granules of clods broke
And made space for me
To lie amongst them
While my body felt the ache
When I was being gently graved.

I roused to realize
That my sweven
Toured me down
To the afterlife lane
To forgraith me
For the next realm of existence.

~Nayanika Dey

From:  India
Copyright ©:  ©7 March, 2016


Copyright © NAYANIKA DEY | Year Posted 2017